


I came to life.

by punkhale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allydia Reverse Bang, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gunshot Wounds, Happy Ending, POV Allison, POV Third Person, Roswell AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3577842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkhale/pseuds/punkhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>September 23rd, Journal Entry One:<br/>My name is Allison Argent, and five days ago I died. After that, things got really weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I came to life.

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based on the pilot episode of Roswell, a late 90s-early 00s TV show about teenage aliens in Roswell, New Mexico. I took out the whole bit about the sheriff getting suspicious and all the stuff that leads up to the rest of the show's events and kept it simple so I could tie it up easily. 
> 
> Many thanks to [Eszter](http://pegcartr.tumblr.com/), [Autumn](http://kirargent.tumblr.com/), & [Leigh](http://queerleighyours.tumblr.com/) for looking this over for me and offering feedback.
> 
> You can see the tumblr post with art [here](http://allydiareversebang.tumblr.com/post/116790413736/title-i-came-to-life-artist-liamszzayn).

_September 23rd, Journal Entry One:_

_My name is Allison Argent, and five days ago I died. After that, things got really weird._

 

Allison straightened her headband, antennae bouncing, and smoothed down her apron. Usually The Crashdown, the cafe her parents owned, was filled with locals, business steady but not overwhelming. But not today. The Crash Festival, a huge outdoor party complete with bands and a mock spaceship crash, was in only a few days, and the place was packed with tourists sporting “I Want to Believe” pins and asking about whether or not she’d ever seen a real alien. She took pleasure in showing off a ridiculously fake alien photo, out of focus and wrinkled from being handled so many times, despite her mother’s protests. It wasn’t her fault people were so gullible, and it was harmless fun anyways.

“What can I get you folks?” Allison asked, approaching a couple who had just sat down and were decked out in matching vests, both covered in pins and patches. “Our Will Smith burger is on special today and comes with a free Green Martian shake.”

They looked over the menu and rattled off their orders. She was just about to walk away when they pinned her with mutual stares, the guy motioning for her to lean closer. He had that look in his eye, the kind of look that only the extraterrestrial-crazed had.

“So, is your family from Roswell?” he asked. “Do you have any, you know, stories about the crash?” His face was lit with excitement and Allison couldn’t help herself, pulling the fake alien photo from her apron.

“If I show you this, you can’t tell anyone,” she said, mock serious. They nodded and she handed it over, trying not to grin at their wide eyes.

“My grandmother took that at the crash, right before the government showed up and cleared it out.” Her family hadn’t even moved to Roswell until the 60s; her grandmother definitely didn’t believe in aliens.

“Who else knows about this?” the woman asked, stroking the edge of the photo reverently.

“Well, I know about it, and now you know about it.”

“Wow,” she whispered, transfixed.

Allison bit her lip to hold back a laugh. “I’m going to get your orders and I’ll be right back. Don’t show that picture to anyone.”

She turned away, grinning to herself as she dropped the order off in the kitchen. Stiles shook his head at her, the antennae on his headband bobbing. “I can’t believe you still have that stupid picture.”

Allison grinned. “Like I’d get rid of it. This is the most fun we have all year.”

“Don’t look now but Lydia Martin is staring at you again,” Stiles said, picking up an order from the window into the kitchen.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Allison said, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder where she knew Lydia was sitting with her sister, Malia. “I’m wearing a uniform that includes antenna and an alien head for an apron, Lydia is _not_ looking at me.”

It wasn’t that Allison thought she was unattractive; she knew she was pretty, but she also knew that the diner uniform was not her best look, and she’d been on shift for three hours already which meant her hair was probably trashed. Usually she took better care of her appearance, even at work, but with the Crash Festival looming the place was packed and she’d barely had time to glance in a mirror, let alone fix the braid that was slowly coming undone down her back.

“Besides,” she continued. “It’s not like I care if Lydia Martin is looking at me.” Which was a total lie.

Stiles grabbed the rest of the order he was waiting on and patted her on the arm. “Keep telling yourself that, Ally.”

She narrowed her eyes at him but he ignored her, wandering off to deliver the food. It was just when she was about to grab an order when she heard it: the sound of raised voices coming from somewhere in the diner as a fight broke out. She whipped around to look and saw two guys about her age, definitely not locals, yelling and scuffling. One of them reached into his jacket and Allison knew what he was doing before he even took the gun out. The guy he was fighting with seemed to know, too, grabbing hold of his arm so that the gun pointed away from him.

And right at Allison.

The shot rang out through the diner and blood started to bloom from her dress, spreading out from where the bullet had hit. It was all very surreal as she brought her hands up to clutch at it, a small voice in the back of her head telling her she needed to stop the bleeding. The small movement made her sway and then she was falling, collapsing onto the floor, eyes shut against an explosion of pain.

She heard her name being yelled and people running, chairs scraping across the floor, a little kid crying.

“Allison!”

The voice was right above her and she felt hands grasping hers, pulling them away. She peeked her eyes open, gritting her teeth against the pain in her abdomen. Lydia was leaning over her, hand hovering over the wound.

“It’s okay, Allison, it’s going to be okay. Look at me, I need you to look at me.”

Allison looked at her, tried to focus her eyes on her face. She didn’t think it was going to be okay, she’d been shot after all, but Lydia was looking at her with so much concern that she didn’t try to object. Words had seemed to have abandoned her anyways.

Lydia pressed her hand against the wound, the pressure sending another shot of pain through her. It was temporary though, because almost as soon as Lydia touched her, the pain started to ebb away. She could feel her skin knitting together under Lydia’s hand and she looked up at the other girl, eyes wide.

Lydia gave her a small smile before reaching behind her, grabbing for one of the glass bottles of ketchup. She broke it against the counter and tossed it onto Allison’s dress. “You dropped ketchup on yourself, okay? You’re fine. Just please, don’t tell anyone.”

She reached out her hand and Allison took it, allowing her to help her to her feet. “Please don’t say anything,” she repeated.

Allison nodded numbly and then Lydia was being dragged away by a very panicked looking Malia, running from the diner, leaving her covered in ketchup and not as dead as she thought she was going to be a minute ago.

By the time the police arrived the men who had been fighting were gone. Stiles had helped her clean some of the ketchup off of herself and kept asking her if she was sure she was okay.

“Stiles, I’m fine,” she said for the umpteenth time. “I just fell and broke a ketchup bottle, I’m not dying.” _Not anymore_ , she added silently. She had no idea what Lydia had done --whatever it was should have been impossible-- but Allison was alive because of it and for that she was beyond grateful.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles said, tossing the towel he’d been using to mop her up onto the counter. “Just tell me if you’re not if for whatever reason that changes.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll be the first to know.”

He was about to reply, probably with a trademark sarcastic comment, when the sheriff interrupted them.

“Are you okay Miss Argent?” he asked and she had to bite back the urge to roll her eyes again.

“I’m fine, Sheriff, just some spilled ketchup,” she assured him. She couldn’t wait to change her clothes.

“Then do you mind if I ask you a few questions about what happened?”

She shook her head. “Not at all, anything you need.”

“Did you recognize either of the boys who caused all this trouble?” he asked, pen poised over a small notepad.

“No,” she said, shaking her head again. “I think they were tourists, probably here for the festival.”

He nodded as if that was the answer he was expecting. “And how did you get ketchup all over your dress?”

“I fell when the gun went off,” she said steadily. “It startled me and I tried to grab something to stay upright and knocked over the ketchup.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

It was then that her mother appeared, rushing over to where they were talking, an alarmed look on her face.

“It’s ketchup, mom,” she said and watched some of the tension leave her mother’s body. She really couldn’t wait to get out of her ruined uniform and into something that didn’t make it look like she’d been shot. She _had_ been shot, but she wasn’t about to tell anyone else that.

“Do you think it would be possible for us to get a statement from you, Miss Argent?” the sheriff asked.

“Yes of course, whatever you need I-”

“Sheriff! Sheriff we need to talk to you!”

Allison turned to find the tourist couple from earlier, the one she’d shown the fake photograph to. They had come from the direction of the back of the diner, where she had fallen.

“Yes?” the sheriff asked politely, although the look on his face said that he wasn’t thrilled about being interrupted.

“Me and Jen here,” the guy said, motioning the woman next to him, “we’ve searched this whole place up and down and we can’t find a bullet anywhere, or a bullet hole for that matter. We were sitting right near by and the gunman definitely fired over here.”

“Yeah,” the woman, Jen, agreed. “And right before the fight happened this girl gave us this.” She held out the alien photograph.

The sheriff took it, brows raised, and showed it to Allison and her mom. Her mom shot her a hard look. “I told you to stop showing that to the tourists.”

Allison shrugged. “Sorry.”

“And there was this girl,” the guy continued. “She ran over to her and then ran away a few minutes later.”

The sheriff turned his attention back to Allison. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “just someone seeing if I was okay. I think their friend was freaked out though, so they left.” She wasn’t happy with having to admit any of that to the police --she’d told Lydia she wouldn’t tell anyone what she had done and she’d meant it. Unfortunately, there was no denying what more than one person saw. She just hoped that was all they saw.

“Did you know the girl?” the sheriff asked, jotting down notes on his notepad. It made Allison nervous.

“No,” she lied, hoping nothing in her voice gave her away.

“Oh, she knew her, she definitely knew her,” Jen spoke up.

Allison bristled, annoyed at being contradicted regardless if the woman was right. “How would you know? I’ve never seen you in my life before today, you have no idea who I know and who I don’t.”

Her mom placed a hand on her arm in an attempt to placate her. “Calm down, dear, it’s okay. I’m sure we can sort all of this out. Can’t we, Sheriff?”

She shot the man a meaningful look and Allison was glad to have her on her side.

“Of course,” he said. “I’m just going to take your statement and you two-” he pointed at the nosey tourists, “-can fill out statements with one of my deputies.”

The couple shuffled off towards the front of the diner where one of the junior deputies was talking to an elderly woman who was gesturing wildly while he took notes, and the sheriff led Allison and her mother to a table. In fifteen minutes they were done, Allison promising to call if she remembered anything at all, and then she was finally allowed to escape. Their house was actually an apartment above the diner and she trudged tiredly up the stairs, anxious to take a shower and put on clean clothes.

The quiet house, still clean from her mother’s ministrations that morning, felt surreal after the events downstairs. It was almost like she hadn’t been shot and then magically healed by the girl she’d had a crush on since she was eleven. Almost.

She started the shower and stripped off her dress, tossing it on the floor to be thrown away. There was no way the stains were coming out and besides, there was a bullet hole in it. She should probably burn it.

It was when she was standing naked in the bathroom, just about to climb under the hot spray of water, that she noticed it. A glowing handprint on her stomach, right where she had been shot.

\--

Allison’s morning classes dragged on and she was barely able to concentrate on her trigonometry worksheet or Miss Blake’s lecture about Kafka. She didn’t have a class with Lydia until biology just before lunch and she was practically jumping out of her skin from nerves. She had to talk to her, had to know what had happened, how she’d healed her. It wasn’t possible --shouldn’t be possible.

When biology finally came around Lydia was late. Mr. Harris started class by talking about cellular makeup and Allison tried to pay attention but found herself constantly glancing towards the door. She had no idea if Lydia would show up. Usually the other girl never missed class and if she wasn’t there today, well, Allison knew when she was being avoided.

Five minutes in the door opened and Lydia came in, long red hair free around her shoulders and her outfit just as immaculate as always.

“Nice of you to join us, Miss Martin. Maybe next time you could be here before the bell,” Mr. Harris said. Lydia just nodded, sliding into the only open seat, the one next to Allison, avoiding her gaze the entire time.

“As I was saying,” Mr. Harris continued. “Today we’re going to focus on the difference between species. Whoever you’re sitting next to is your lab partner for the day. We’re going to be comparing vegetable cells to human cells. People on the left can prepare the vegetable cells in the side; people on the right can use the cotton swab to take samples from the inside of their cheek. Let’s get going.”

Allison glanced over at Lydia to find the girl had frozen, a pen she had been biting on hanging from her mouth as she looked at Harris with a subtle look of horror. Allison tried to smile at her but Lydia was hardly paying attention.

“Can I get a bathroom pass?” she asked suddenly, dropping the pen on the table in front of her.

“More high maintenance than usual today, aren’t we Miss Martin,” Mr. Harris replied, pulling a pass from his desk. Lydia hurried to the front of the room to take it and was out the door in seconds, Allison staring after her.

So Lydia _was_ avoiding her.

She sighed and grabbed the pen Lydia had been chewing on, preparing a slide for it. She knew she should just swab her own cheek, but there was a voice in the back of her head telling her it was Lydia’s cells she wanted to see; wanted to check to see if they were… abnormal. Which would be ridiculous, because Lydia was obviously a human being, albeit an apparently very gifted one. But she had to know.

She put the slide under the microscope and spent a few seconds studying the pictures of pinkish human cells Harris had put up on the projector. Then she looked through the lens at Lydia’s cells.

They were green.

\--

Lydia didn’t come back to class at all and Allison barely managed to catch up with her as the bell for lunch rang. She was hurrying down the hall, away from the cafeteria, and despite her three inch heels Allison had to run to keep pace with her.

“Lydia! Lydia, I need to talk to you!”

The other girl stopped, turning to look at her with a conflicted expression on her face. Allison almost ran into her but caught herself, hooking their arms together and dragging her towards one of the music practice rooms. Usually she would never be so forward, but she needed answers.

She shut the door behind them, wishing it locked. Lydia was standing  in the middle of the room, watching her like a caged animal. Allison decided not to beat around the bush and lifted up her shirt, revealing the glowing handprint on her stomach.

Lydia’s eyes widened and one perfectly manicured hand moved to cover her mouth.

“I just want some answers, that’s all,” Allison said, lowering her shirt after a few seconds.

“Okay,” Lydia said, lowering her hand. Her voice was soft and Allison took a few steps closer to her. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Allison said automatically and then realized how frustratingly vague that might sound. “Or at least what you did to me at the Crashdown. Not that I’m not grateful --I am, I owe you my life, whatever you did-- it’s just that it was pretty unreal and people don’t usually have healing powers or anything. And I looked at your cells during bio and they were--”

Lydia held up her hand and Allison stopped talking, happy to have her rambling cut off. Rambling was not something she usually did, that was all Stiles, but her nerves had reached a new high and suddenly she felt like she was bursting.

“My cells are green, I know,” Lydia said. “And they don’t look like normal human cells. I’ve looked at them before. Too curious for my own good, that’s what Malia is always saying.” She was nervous, too. The realization of that made Allison feel a little bit better.

“I’m not from around here,” Lydia continued.

“Okay,” Allison said slowly. “So where are you from?”

Lydia caught her eye and held it, her look intense enough that Allison had to fight not to look away. Then she raised her hand again and pointed up.

“North?” Allison asked and she could feel her pulse quickening.

Lydia raised her hand even higher in the air.

“Like Canada north?” She was grasping at straws and she knew it.

“Much farther than that,” Lydia said, a small smile pulling at her glossy pink lips.

“You’re not, I mean, you can’t be…” Allison stammered, words sticking to the inside of her mouth. This was ridiculous it wasn’t like Lydia was… “You’re not an a-alien?”

Lydia’s nod was slow but unmistakable. “It’s strange to hear it out loud like that. I never use the word, but… yes, I suppose I am.”

Allison stared at her, aware that her mouth was hanging open but not having the motor skills to shut it, her eyes wide. Alien. Lydia Martin had just admitted to being an alien. It was the craziest, most insane thing anyone had ever said to her.

“I have to go!” she declared suddenly, turning quickly towards the door.

“Allison, wait!” Lydia was beside her in a moment, hand pressed against the door to keep her from opening it. “You can’t tell anyone,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “Not Stiles or Scott or your parents, not anyone. It would put me in a lot of danger. You have to promise me you won’t say anything.”

Allison nodded, staring at her while her mind whirled. Alien, alien, _alien_. She needed to breathe.

Lydia let go of the door and Allison was out it and halfway down the hall in seconds. Lydia Martin was an alien. There was an alien in Roswell; an alien that had saved her life.

And Stiles said nothing ever interesting happened.

\--

She didn’t see Lydia for the rest of the day and she was grateful. It wasn’t that she was prejudiced against aliens or anything, not that it was something she’d ever thought about before and it was still Lydia after all, but she needed some time to let the news sink in.

She avoided Stiles and Scott at lunch and didn’t say a word through the rest of her classes. Stiles didn’t work the same shift with her that night, and other than a few words to her parents and talking to the customers, Allison stayed inside her own head. She’d said the word “alien” to herself so many times that it had started to sound like gibberish. Roswell had been her home for her entire life and not once had she ever seriously contemplated that there were aliens among them. With all the attractions and tourists, all the stories and documentaries about the town, and despite her parents owning an extraterrestrial themed diner, aliens had never really interested her.

Lydia Martin interested her though; Lydia Martin interested her a lot. The girl was whip-smart with an immaculate sense of style and the highest grade point average in the school. Allison had always been a little bit in love with her, even if she was too nervous to talk to her.

She worked until closing, sending her parents off to let her finish cleaning up. Her willingness to put in the work made them happy and gave her some time alone, which made her happy. She was in the middle of sweeping up the floor, gathering all the dirt and stray fries that the floor had been collecting all day, when there was a knock on the front door of the diner. Lydia was standing on the other side of the glass, a nervous smile on her face. Allison hesitated but put the broom down and went to open the door, shutting it as quietly as possible behind her.

“I’m sorry for just showing up,” Lydia started, her voice soft. “I just had to talk to you. I know you probably don’t want to see me right now and I can only imagine how you must be feeling, but I had to see you.”

“It’s okay,” Allison replied, Lydia’s words echoing in her mind. _I had to see you._ “I’m glad you’re here. I want to talk to you, too, now that I’ve had some time to digest the whole, you know…” Her words trailed off and she offered a weak smile that Lydia returned.

“I know you must have a lot of questions,” Lydia said, “and I get that. I want to answer them for you, as best as I can, but I also wanted to confess something to you.”

“Confess?” She’d already admitted to being an alien, Allison would have assumed she’d be all confession-ed out.

“When I healed you, I made this connection. That doesn’t usually happen --I didn’t know it would happen. I would never invade your privacy I want you to know that.”

Allison blinked. “A connection? What kind of connection?”

“I saw some of your memories, mostly from when you were little. Like that dress with all the cupcakes on it that your grandmother gave you.”

Allison blushed, hiding her face in her hand. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you saw that, I hated that thing.”

Lydia laughed. “But you wore it anyways to make her happy, even though it embarrassed you to be seen it.”

“It would have embarrassed anyone,” Allison said, peeking up from her hand. “It was hideous, all pink and frilly.”

“I know. You’re a good granddaughter though.”

“Yeah,” Allison said, “I suppose.” The fact that Lydia had seen inside her head was finally sinking in. She wondered what else she had seen.

“I wanted to see if I could make the connection go the other way,” Lydia continued, “to put us on equal footing.”

Allison nodded, not really sure what she was agreeing to but Lydia was moving towards hers and she knew that she wanted her to keep doing that.

“I need to touch you. Is that okay?”

Allison nodded again and Lydia’s hands came up to rest on her temples, her touch warm and comforting.

“Close your eyes,” Lydia instructed and Allison did as she was told, not sure what to expect but wanting the moment to continue for as long as possible. And then the images started.

She saw Lydia as a small child, a human child, naked and walking down the road, Malia next to her and their hands clasped together as headlights approached them. She saw flashes of the Martins as they adopted the girls and gave them a home, loving them as they would their own children. She saw Lydia walking the school hallways alone, always at the top of her class but always separate from them. And she saw herself the way Lydia saw her. Lydia thought she was beautiful.

The images stopped and Allison opened her eyes to find Lydia watching her, her expression vulnerable. The other girl stepped back, hands dropping back to her sides, leaving Allison feeling slightly dazed.“Did it work?”

“Yes,” Allison said, her voice just above a whisper as she tried to come back to reality. She remembered a young Malia holding on to Lydia on the road. “Is Malia…?”

Lydia nodded. “Yes, she’s like me.”

Allison took a deep breath. Lydia wasn’t the only alien in town. “Are you the only ones?”

“As far as we know. There was no one else at the crash that we know of. If there were others they’re dead or long gone.”

“The crash? The famous one? That was in 1947, you’re only 16. I know my math isn’t that great but that doesn’t exactly add up.”

“We were in incubation pods for a long time. I don’t know why. Actually, we don’t know much of anything about where we came from or what we are.”

“That kind of sucks,” Allison said. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like not to know anything about where you come from. The Argents were big on family history; there was a big book in their living room of information about the Argent line dating all the way back to the 1300s.

“It does suck,” Lydia agreed. “The Martins are good to us though. They’re the only family we’ve ever known and it’s a good family to be a part of.”

Allison believed that. Mrs. Martin and her mother had been friends in high school and they still got together sometimes to do whatever it was moms do when they hang out.

“Okay,” Allison said, “so what else can you do? Besides the healing and the memory thing.”

Lydia gave a wide smile. “Lot’s of things actually, including manipulating molecular structures.”

“What?”

“It means we can do stuff like melt cheese or fix rips in clothing, that kind of stuff. Actually, that’s how the healing works.”

Allison stared at her, eyes wide. “That’s… kind of amazing. Who else knows about this stuff? Your parents?”

“No one,” Lydia replied, her look turning serious. “We’ve never told anyone, not even our parents.”

“Why not? That’s an awful big secret to keep.”

“Fear mostly. People joke about all those secretive government branches that deal with aliens but we’re just not willing to take the risk that it’s not real. It’s too dangerous. We don’t want to be experiments.”

“You risked a lot by saving me,” Allison said. “Why did you do it?”

“I couldn’t let you die,” Lydia replied, as if it were completely obvious.

“Oh. Well… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They looked at each other for a few moments, a silence stretching between them, although not an uncomfortable one.

“I should get back to work,” Allison said, motioning to the diner around her.

“Yeah, of course. You promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“I promise.”

“Okay then. Good night, Allison.”

“Good night, Lydia.”

\--

The next day she saw Malia first. They had never really spoken before so Allison was surprised to find the other girl pushing her into an empty classroom before the bell rang before she realized this was probably about Lydia and the secret she’d shared. Malia looked pissed.

“Alright, listen up Argent, Lydia’s got some kind of soft spot for you, but I want to make sure this is very clear. Our lives depend on you keeping your mouth shut, got it? Because I swear to god if you blab to anyone or hurt my sister in any way I am going to beat the crap out of you. And I can do all kinds of terrible things to you as I’m sure you can imagine. Aliens have all sorts of tricks up their sleeves.” She gave her a vicious look and Allison took a step backward to put some distance between them.

“I’m not going to say anything, I swear, I would never do anything to hurt Lydia or you. I promise, now just lay off the threats a bit will you?”

“Lydia trusts you, but I don’t. Consider the threats an insurance policy.”

“What threats would those be?”

Malia and Allison both whipped around to find Stiles standing in the doorway and looking almost as pissed as Malia.

“Nothing,” Malia practically growled before pushing her way out of the room, elbowing Stiles in the ribs as she went.

“That was a bit unnecessary!” he called after her, rubbing his ribs and scowling. Then he turned back to Allison. “So what was that all about?”

“It was nothing,” Allison said, shrugging but knowing there was no way Stiles was going to buy that, or let it go. Stiles was too smart and way too nosy.

“Yeah, okay, because people throw around threats for no reason every day. What did she want, Ally? You know you can tell me anything.”

She did know that, of course she did. Stiles had been one of her best friend since they were in kindergarten, along with Scott. They were a trio, inseparable. But she couldn’t tell him this.

“Really, it was nothing, just let it go,” she said, trying to make her voice firm, like there was no room for arguments. “We should get to class.”

Stiles gave her a long look, eyes narrow, but he finally nodded in concession although she knew there was no way this was the end of it. When Stiles caught on to something he never let go.

\--

“So I was wondering if you were going to the Crash Festival with anyone?” Lydia asked, coming up beside her as she opened her locker to dig out her biology book.

Allison shook her head. “No, just with Scott and Stiles, like usual. Why?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Because I want you to go with me. I thought that was obvious.”

“Really?”

“Yes really.”

“The festival’s not weird or anything for you?” Allison asked, her voice low. Lydia just laughed.

“I live in Roswell. I’m kind of used to it, even if it is kind of a mockery of my life.”

Allison relaxed. “I would love to go with you.”

Lydia’s smile was a force of its own and Allison found herself returning it, her heart beating fast.

“Excellent!” Lydia said. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.” Allison found her biology book and shut her locker before Lydia looped their arms together to go to class. They walked by Scott and Stiles who just stared at her, Stiles looking suspicious and Scott shocked. Her crush on Lydia wasn’t a secret, not from the two of them, and Scott recovered from his surprise long enough to throw her a thumbs up. She rolled her eyes at him but smiled as Lydia led her into the bio room.

\--

Allison looked herself over in the mirror, pleased with her outfit. She was dressed in a shiny silver costume made up of skin tight leggings and a bustier top with knee high boots and a copious amount of body glitter. It was a lot more skin than she usually liked to put on display but she recalled the pink mini dress Lydia had worn to the festival last year and felt brave. She swept her hair up into a high ponytail and threw in some glitter hairspray to top off the look.

She glanced at the clock; Lydia would be there to pick her up in ten minutes. Butterflies started to form in her stomach and she paced around her room trying to shake off her nerves. She had a _date_ with an _alien_ who happened to be the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen in her life. The butterflies increased and she practically jumped out of her skin when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” she called, racing across the apartment to the door before either one of her parents could get there first. The last thing she needed was her father mortifying her in front of Lydia Martin. Not that she had told them she had a date, mostly because she was worried about the mortification thing and only a little bit because she was still afraid Lydia wasn’t being serious. And her dad had a tendency to be a bit overprotective, which was embarrassing.

When she opened the door it wasn’t Lydia on the other side, though: it was Stiles. Stiles with Scott behind him and looking very determined.

“What are you guys-”

Stiles pushed passed her and Scott gave her a weak smile as he followed. She shut the door behind them and raised her brow expectantly.

“Alright Ally, we know something has been up with you since the thing at the diner and I think it’s time we get some stuff out in the open.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar. Tell her she’s a terrible liar, Scott.”

Scott shrugged. “You are a pretty bad liar.”

Allison gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine, what do you think is going on that I’m lying to you about? Because I’d really like to know.” Stiles would of course pick now, minutes before Lydia was supposed to be there, to bring this up.

“Lydia did something to you at the diner, I know she did. They never found a bullet, Ally, and no bullet holes. I think you were shot and I think Lydia did something to you.”

Allison shot him a hard look, grateful that her parents were out of earshot. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“And then Malia was threatening you yesterday? Malia’s a little rough around the edges but she doesn’t just go around threatening to maim people. So whatever Lydia did, she seems pretty upset about it. Upset enough to make sure you keep quiet.”

Allison didn’t say anything, waiting to see where Stiles was going with this. She didn’t like how much he’d picked up on, how much he knew. Scott was looking between them nervously like he wasn’t sure what to say, convinced enough by Stiles’ explanation that something was amiss but not sure what it could mean.

“And I heard Malia use a very interesting word when she was talking to you. The kind of word people throw around a lot in this town but never means anything. Only Malia meant it, and you seemed to take her pretty seriously.”

None of them said anything for a long moment, Allison and Stiles staring at each other. So far she was doing a terrible job at keeping Lydia’s secret. She was going to kill her, if Malia didn’t do it first.

“Dude, what are you getting at?” Scott asked when the silence went on for too long.

“She used the a-word.”

“Asshole?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Alien. She implied she was an alien.”

Scott’s eyes widened and Allison bit her lip, not sure how to proceed. Technically she hadn’t told him anything, but she doubted Malia would see it that way. And what was she going to tell Lydia? Lydia who had risked everything to save her life and trusted her enough to tell her what she was and had then asked her to the Crash Festival.

There was another knock on the door and Allison felt a knot form in her stomach. That had to be Lydia.

“Just shut up, Stiles,” she whispered before pulling the door open. Lydia smiled at her, dressed in a woman’s suit that was definitely inspired by Men In Black. She looked incredible and Allison tried to return her smile but knew it must have come out more like a grimace.

“What’s wrong?” Lydia asked, looking past her into the house where Stiles and Scott were both staring.

“They know,” Allison said. “I didn’t tell them, I swear I didn’t.”

Lydia’s eyes went wide in shock and then narrowed as they fixed on Stiles. “I always knew you were too smart for your own good, Stilinski. But you listen to me, you are not to tell anyone about this, you got it? Both of you are to keep your mouths shut.”

The glare she fixed them with was fierce and Allison was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of it. Scott nodded slowly.

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone,” Stiles said. “I’m not an idiot.”

Lydia glared a moment longer before turning back to Allison, her face softening. “We’re still on for our date, right?”

“You’re not mad?” Allison asked.

“Not at you. Plus, we both look amazing and it would be a shame not to go show up the tourists.”

Allison grinned and grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. “Well, then we have spaceship to catch.”

 

_It’s September 24th, I’m Allison Argent, and five days ago I died. But then the really amazing thing happened: I came to life._

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://punkhale.tumblr.com).


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